Page 65 of Bottle Rocket

She grinned and picked up a bottle rocket and a plastic Coca-Cola bottle. It took her a few minutes to arrange the bottle and rocket safely.

He was a lucky son of a bitch. He had the love of his life within arm’s reach, and that was a blessing.

Fifteen years ago, they’d played with smoke bombs on this same stretch of sand. He’d been so scared to say goodbye.

He still didn’t like to say goodbye. They focused on their hellos instead.

Rosie used a punk to light the bottle rocket. She rushed away from the sparking fuse. The rocket zipped into the air, whistling loudly. Rosie sucked in a noisy breath. There was excitement and delight in her eyes.

“Come here, love,” he said.

She crashed into his arms. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too.”

She always said that when they were together. It was hard sometimes, just like they knew it would be, but they spent more time with each other than apart, and the separation made every reunion sweeter.

Nighttime fell around them as they snacked on cherry jam and homemade bread. Crickets and toads sang on the shoreline and lightning bugs blinked around them. The sky twinkled with stars.

Leo was content. He was exactly where he was meant to be. Nothing clawing at his chest, pulling him in a different direction. His only impulse was to move toward the next adventure with this woman by his side.

She held his hand and waited out his silence. He loved her so much the emotion felt too big for his body.

With the darkness came more fireworks until the sky was blazing with rockets, showers of dazzling lights, and blooming colors. There were multiple shows going on around them, close but not too close.

He kissed Rosie lightly on the lips, then tumbled her onto her back on their picnic blanket. She was wearing jean shorts, so he wrestled those off her. She didn’t put up a fight.

As he slipped her panties into his pocket, he noticed a large mark on her hip.

“What’s this from, Prim Reaper?” he asked, using her roller derby name.

“It’s a fishnet burn.”

He kissed it. She was proud of her bumps and bruises, so he worshiped them.

After a few seconds, she’d obviously gotten impatient, because she said, “Leo,” in the bossy teacher voice he loved.

“Yes, ma’am?”

She grabbed him by his hair and shoved his face toward her pussy. “Hurry up.”

He laughed and nuzzled against her. This was a risk, though no one had ever disturbed them at this spot. Still, she wouldn’t want to be exposed for too long.

He inhaled her scent and kissed her thigh. “Watch the fireworks, Rosie. I’m here to serve.”

She let out a shaky breath and relaxed.

He licked her, dragging his tongue through her folds and up to her clit. He felt the pleasure spread through her body with every twitch and twist, every gasp. He let his fingers play, dipping into her cunt.

“Fill me up,” she rasped out, her voice a whisper.

He did. He followed her orders because nothing in the world made him happier.

Her eyes flashed in the darkness, the reflection of fireworks burning in them. He watched that fireworks show through her eyes. Every burst, every bloom. The wonder and the whip of adrenaline. She detonated on his lips and hands, his own finale.

“Fuck, you’re incredible at that,” she gasped at last.

“Thanks. You taste good.”

“Dirty boy. Take your pants off. Get on your back.”

He grinned and followed orders. “Your wish. My command.” Before his head hit the blanket, Rosie was on him, and he was in her, and he felt like a lit fuse.

“Your turn. Watch the fireworks,” Rosie said sweetly. He knew not to trust that sugary voice. There was nothing sweet about what she was about to do. He loved it that way.

“I don’t need to.” He caught Rosie’s hands and threaded their fingers together. “Would rather watch you.”